Tintin and the parting of the waters
by Starthorn
Summary: Tintin,the Captain and Calculus journey to England to research an impossible phenomenon.As strangely connected reports   come to light,and a mysterious runaway lives,they begin to realise that there may be more to this discovery than is at first apparent.
1. Prologue

Prologue

A silent figure crept along the dark alleyway, a heavy cloak wrapped tightly about them, clearly too big for their tiny frame. A grey woollen scarf was wound around the girl's neck, half covering her thin face. The figure glanced momentarily towards the heavens, only visible through a small opening between the two rows of empty warehouses. The eyes of the runaway were momentarily visible, shining with the reflected starlight, which looked as though it were coming from within. But the moment of peace elapsed, and the small figure carried on.

She did not have a name. Not that she could remember anyway. Not a proper name, although people had called her various things. She shivered, and pulled the coat tighter about herself. She had nowhere to go. She shook, not only with the cold, but the injustice of everything. They had used her, and there was nothing more to be said. And now she had to get away. The salty tang of the sea hit her, and she could hear the waves sloshing gently against the concrete harbour. A large ferry boat waited there, still, dark and empty, like the blackness of the night. Something moved in the alleyway behind her, and she spun around. Surely no-one saw her leave? But it was only a cat stumbling along the cobbled ground. It staggered out into the middle of the alleyway, and fell to the ground. The girl was torn. She had to get to the ship, and yet the poor animal could be in pain. Dying. Turning, she hurried towards it. Always making the wrong decisions. Always letting her heart rule her head. The animal cried out in pain again. Her feet pounded, the worn boots clacking against the old stones. Blood. She could see blood. She knelt down, and scooped the tiny animal up in her arms, a frail, starving kitten, lost and alone. Gently parting the fur which had been matted with concealed blood, she found the source of the blood, a deep gash down the animal's hind leg. She reached into her rucksack, and retrieved a long white bandage that she unrolled, and wound securely around the injured thigh. She could smell infection, but here was nothing to be done about that now. Lifting the wounded soul carefully from the ground, she looked around for its mother, but she could see nothing. She had to go, and yet if she left it here, it would be dead by morning. The kit mewled piteously, burying its head into her coat. There was nothing else for it. She opened her coat, and nestled the poor creature gently into one of the cavernous inside pockets. It was delirious, but right now, all she could do was keep it warm. Turning on her heel, she hurried again towards the ship, into the unknown. Into an adventure that would change her life forever.


	2. Chapter 1

**Note: Snowy POV is in **_**italics**_** :) I tried to make Tintin as in character as possible^^ Please review to let me know if it's okay!**

**Chapter 1**

The late afternoon was cool and fresh, as Tintin strolled through the town, deep in his own daydreaming. Snowy padded along faithfully beside him, every now and then pausing to take a curious sniff at something around them. There were very few people about, and the air was still. Tintin liked it like this. It gave him time to be peaceful and contented before his next adventure engulfed him in adrenalin and excitement. He past a small sales booth, and pulled a newspaper out of the rack. Crouching down on one knee, he opened the broadsheet. This was something that he had become accustomed to doing, so that Snowy could look at the paper too. Right on Q, the small, fluffy white dog placed his front paws on Tintin's leg, and proceeded to look at the newspaper. He often wondered whether there was more to Snowy then met the eye. Sometimes, the things that that dog did! When he looked him in the eye... like there was something just as intelligent as a human in there. And then the dog would just be Snowy again, dashing around and getting into trouble. Tintin chuckled quietly to himself, as a bizarre fleeing image of Snowy accidently running into an open dustbin danced through his mind.

He continued to scan the articles in the paper, but there was nothing of interest. Not until the third page anyhow.

GIRL REPORTED MISSING

After continuous searching, it has been reported that a young girl, believed to be of British origin, has disappeared from a children's home on the outskirts of Muscron, last Wednesday night. She was not reported missing however, until almost a week later.

Mme. Farthling, director of the Home, commented that; "It is not unusual for the child in question to go missing, and then wander back in again, perfectly unharmed."

This is the reason that the police were not informed until days later. Madeline Granger, 14 years of age, had been living in Belgium for only a month, and spoke little French. According to other children, she was 'quiet, sort of person who always kept herself to herself'. Her parentage is unknown, and she has no formal means of identification.

On arriving in the city of Muscrone, she attended the local school, Flône Abbey, for only a week, but was removed for unrecorded reasons and was taught privately by Mme. Farthling at the Home. However, very little is known about the education that she was given from this point on, and officials doubt whether she received any that complied with government standards.

Searches for Madeline continue, but no leads have been found. It is being questioned whether the girl was kidnapped, or chose to run away. There have been strong verbal protest against the latter, but no evidence has been discovered that indicates the location of the child.

To add to the mystery, it has been claimed that the door and all of the windows of the windows of the girl bedroom were locked, at the estimated time of her departure. No-one saw her leave the building, and there is no record of her boarding public transport. Police can only conclude that, as so little is known about the child, this was the work of skilled men.

All inhabitants of the building are have been questioned as a consequence of this, but no further information has been disclosed.

The article was short, but instantly attracted Tintin's attention. He turned to his dog, an idea forming quickly in his mind.

"That's the city where we change trains tomorrow Snowy." His tone was thoughtful, and he was talking more to himself that Snowy.

"We'll have a few hours to kill..." he continued "I think we should pay this Mme. Farthling a visit!"

Snowy replied with a loud bark of agreement, licking his master's face gleefully.

_Golly Tintin! We've only just got back from Canada! You'll be up to your neck in it before you've even realised you've started!_

Tintin grinned and replaced the paper on the rack, making a mental note of the address. He could look it up in the map book later. Turning, he set off down the street again, heading back in the direction of Marlinspike hall.

-oOo-

As Tintin reached the crest of the hill, Marlinspike hall's high brick wall came into few. The sky was tinged with pale pinks and oranges, as the sun slowly sank behind the horizon. It was beginning to become colder too, and he thrust his hands deep into his coat pockets. He longed to be away again, out there, exploring the world. Just one night left to wait, and they would be off to England.

He walked along the country road in silence for a few minutes, and then arrived at the grand wrought iron gates. As Tintin fumbled in his pocket for a key, Snowy leapt through the bars, just to remind his master that he could, and barked joyously from the other side. Tintin rolled his eyes, and then smiled. Snowy always made a point of doing that. Keys retrieved, the gate was unlocked, and the pathway to the house clear. He squinted towards it, and could just about see the Captain standing in one of the windows, waving manically at him. Tintin waved back, a little unsure. Suddenly Nestor appeared in the door way. Something was clearly wrong. He broke into a run, reaching the hall in record time.

"Oh Sir! It's simply dreadful!" Nestor cried, as Tintin caught his breath.

"Wha- what's wrong?" he questioned hurriedly, between gasps.

"That step sir. The professor was carrying his suitcase downstairs and-"

"BLUE BLISTERING BALNICALS!" The Captains voice bellowed, making Tintin jump.

"-and it broke again Sir." Nestor continued, without losing any of his composure. "He's twisted his ankle, and the Doctor says that he cannot travel with you to England tomorrow."

"CONFOUNDED STEP!" The Captain's voice came again.

"But- but what about the Captain?" Tintin asked.

But Nestor did not have time to reply. The Captain burst out of the front door, crashing straight into Tintin, and poor Snowy, who happened to be standing behind them. All three toppled down the front steps and fell in a heap onto the cold gravel drive. Tintin was first to recover. He sat up, rubbing his head, and staring around at the darkening sky in a kind of daze.

"Captain?" Tintin called.

Nestor hurried towards them before the Captain could even raise his head. Snowy picked himself up and padded over to Tintin, his head hung dejectedly.

"_How could you do this to me"? Snowy thought miserably. I didn't do anything wrong!_

"Oh... Tintin my boy... it's you..." uttered the Captain distractedly.

Tintin began to pet Snowy, who seemed to be convinced that whatever had happened to him was very unfair. He scratched to small dog between the ears affectionately, attempting to apologise, and then pulled himself to his feet. Bending down to help the Captain stand, he grinned despite himself.

"What's wrong?" he asked attempting, and failing to keep that amused smile of his face. The Professor limped angrily out of the door, and proceeded to hobble down the steps towards them. His face was a perfect tomato red, and Tintin could only remember him being like this on one occasion before. This was when they had been working on the moon project in Syldavia, and the Captain had told him to 'stop playing the goat'. Tintin gulped involuntarily, wondering what on earth had been said this time.

"What do you mean, 'I can't go because you've lost your handkerchief? It's preposterous I tell you! Preposterous" The short, bearded man marched, or tried, in any case, towards them, his spectacles askew.

"FOR THE LAST TIME-" the Captain boomed, but Tintin was quicker.

"Do you have your ear trumpet Professor?" he asked gently, which was indeed a big mistake.

The Professor looked back at him blankly, as if noticing that he was there for the first time.

"Crumpets? No I don't think so. But there's some bread if you want to make toast..." Calculus replied.

"No! Said Tintin, slightly louder this time "Do-you-have-your-ear-trumpet?"

_Ummmm! Crumpets! I'd like a crumpet!_

"I'm sorry but I can't quite hear you." said Calculus, pulling his bronze coloured ear trumpet from his jacket pocket and bringing it to his ear. Tintin, after all of this, was for some strange reason struggling to control a bout of laughter that had introduced itself to the world.

"What the Captain meant to say," he said loudly, "is that he needs to find his handkerchief before we leave tomorrow morning. It's honestly nothing about you not being able to go."

The Captain and Nestor stepped forward and began to protest in two very contrasting voices. But dear old Cuthbert didn't seem to hear, and turning, wandered calmly back into the house, lost again in a world of his own.

The Captain stared at Tintin, completely bemused.

"But the Doctor said he couldn't go because of his twisted ankle" he argued.

"I don't think we'd hear the end of it if he didn't go." Tintin smiled. "I promise you, by morning he will have invented something to help him walk."

Without another word, the four headed back into the glowing warmth of the house, the Captain subdued, and Nestor as unreadable as ever.

Tintin didn't know how wrong he was.


End file.
